


I Can't Breathe Without Them

by jehannan_prince



Series: Ari's Collection [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Ari Hierra-Vance, Depression, Malnutrition, but I wanted it to be a bit more angst-y, like ik it's about tracking uldren down for revenge, ptsd mention, this is a reference to the description of thin line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 04:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehannan_prince/pseuds/jehannan_prince
Summary: Epsilon is worried about his Guardian.





	I Can't Breathe Without Them

_"Talk to me about how you feel."_

He wants to say this to his Guardian, Ari--but would he answer? He watches as the Hunter lines up a shot, fires, bringing down a Hobgoblin. Ari had been doing this for hours, utterly silent. He'd find an area littered with Vex, clear them out with ease, and hide. Waiting for reinforcements, picking them off one by one as they appeared.

_"I wish we would go home."_

What really was home anymore? The place Ari stayed in, a house on the outskirts of the EDZ, was that home? No, no, it wasn't. A home felt lived in, it felt loved. Ari didn't love it, or at least it didn't seem like it. A bed, an old stove, some pots and pans, a tiny bathroom a shower that only gave cold water-- that's all that was in the house. It wasn't alive or warm in the way a home should be.

"Epsilon -- Crucible."

If he'd had a stomach, it would've twisted. Ari only went to the Crucible when he was having a PTSD (that's what it was, right?) episode. His anger would flood up and bring him the power and focus to utterly destroy anything in his way. The only thing that would stop him was a bullet to the head. Even then, he'd track down the bastard that'd done it and have no mercy on them.

He can't remember the last time Ari was on a team with anyone.

_"You're on a rampage, and I'm not comfortable with it."_

The words don't leave the small Ghost as he watches Ari tear through the other Guardians. Hunters, Warlocks, Titans -- a shot, then a knife to the skull. A headshot with a sniper. A shotgun to the gut. A flaming bullet to the chest-- he'd lost his arcblades, and the heat of the gun was the closest he could get to the electricity of the long lost arcblades. He yearned to have those blades back, to feel the bright arc in his veins again, to feel alive again. The pole didn’t feel right in his hands. It was too light, too smooth. He didn’t like having a weight in one hand, and nothing in the other. It felt _wrong_. He felt off balance. So, he stuck with the warmth of the solar gun.

_"I don't think this is why the Traveler chose you."_

Ari had hardly left the Crucible since they'd arrived. He'd spent two weeks there already. The only time he stopped fighting was to eat something, nap for an hour or two, or go to the bathroom. The Crucible was an addiction, it seemed.

_"You know I'll never leave you, right?"_

He should say it. He should say these things to Ari. He should be comforting his Guardian, he should be stopping him from being so reckless, he should be getting him help. Friends, even. Something to make him happy and not so…hollow. Something to brighten him up again.

He appeared when Ari was taking a break, eating and steadying his breath. _Does he know how long he's been at this?_ The Ghost wonders. His helmet is off, and his eyes trained on the ground as he takes a bite out of the apple in his hand. The Ghost can’t look at the apple – he just sees blood. An almost sickening reminder as to what his Guardian has become at this point. His face is pale, too. Normally a light bronze, his face was now faded and washed out.

“Ari—“

His Guardian looks up and he stops.

_“But sometimes…I don’t like the look in your eyes.”_

 He looked…dead. His eyes seemed empty, vacant of life. They seemed gray now, instead of the icy blue that Epsilon had remembered. How long had he looked like this? How long had he not noticed this?

 “I...make sure you’re drinking enough water.”

He just nodded.

_“I’m here. I’m still here.”_

 He finally dropped the Crucible after a third week. Epsilon wasn’t so sure if this was good – he just moved to his bed. Depression had wrapped its claws around Ari and had taken him prisoner, Epsilon realized. He’d be bedridden for a few days, sleeping for the most part. He woke up screaming, sometimes. Screaming and begging for anyone to help him escape _her_. Screaming and begging for Colton to come back. And every time Epsilon was there, soothing him with waves of Light, even curling under his chin, once. Ari would eventually fall back asleep, his tears gone. But the nightmares always came back in the end.

_“Are you still here?”_

The day Ari woke up silently terrified Epsilon.

He had woken up early, his eyes bloodshot and sunken in. The Hunter’s body was thin, trembling, freezing, Epsilon realized as he tightened the blanket around himself. He did his best to give the Hunter as much Light as possible to warm the Hunter, but the Gunslinger’s fire had seemed to die already. A bruise had formed on his leg, and even weeks later, it wasn’t gone. Even his breathing had become harder, Ari having a hard time breathing. How long…how long had it been? How long had it taken for him to realize how damaged his Guardian was?

Epsilon tried to bring him food after that. Ari wouldn’t even look at it. He just fell asleep.

_“I don’t want to lose you to this.”_

 “Ari. Eat something. Please.”

It was the first time he’d spoken to his Guardian in _weeks_. They had never been close, not like Colton and Theta. Oh, how Epsilon had envied that – Ghosts _could_ envy others, couldn’t they?

Ari seemed surprised as his Ghost spoke to him, but slowly nodded. “You’re…right.” His voice was hardly a whisper, weak and tired. “I…can’t get up. Can you…” He trailed off, too weak to finish his sentence. Too tired. Too ashamed to admit he’d let himself waste away.

If Ghosts could cry, Epsilon would have in that moment.

Ari couldn’t handle normal-sized meals. He had to eat small things, snacks, for weeks. His stomach couldn’t handle it. After a month, he could handle a meal a day. He started gaining weight back, and the color eventually returned to his face. Epsilon brought him books to read, too. Something to keep him awake, to keep him from his nightmares. Something that wouldn’t let him fall back into the Crucible cycle, as he now called it.

“I love you.”

Ari looked up in surprise as Epsilon spoke. The Ghost was surprised, too. He had only meant to think it, not say it. But the look on Ari’s face made him relieved that he did. His eyes, which had seemed distant before, were soft, filling with tears. A little smile pulled at his lips, and he pulled the Ghost to his face, holding him tightly.

“I love you too, Epsilon.”


End file.
